DRINKWINE: Some things are more important than fishing

As I write this column, Seamus is at North Main Animal Hospital in Royal Oak, waiting for Dr. Baker to find out once and for all what the swelling on his neck is all about and why it won’t go away.

It began last summer when he experienced some sort of trauma while exploring a patch of woods by the cabin. I remember him running to me like his tail was on fire and sticking around me like a little kid sticks to his mother in a strange place. I didn’t think much about it then, but a few days later he developed a lump on the side of his neck that swelled up the size of a grapefruit. After several different vets looked at him and prescribed antibiotics, it went down and almost disappeared. A couple of months ago, it came back, reached the size of a golf ball and won’t go away.

We never found out what caused it and after a biopsy, x-ray and lab tests, we decided (Dr. Baker and I) it was time to go in and see.

So for the past two days my mind has been totally consumed with thoughts of a 48 pound liver and white tenacious Brittany. Not just any 48 pound liver and white tenacious Brittany, my liver and white, tenacious Brittany.

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I know it needed to be done, but I feel so guilty about not having done it right the first time and putting him through this now, almost a year later, I’ve been dotting on him and, in true Seamus form, he’s been taking advantage of the extras …like bacon for breakfast, ice cream after supper and a lot of petting whenever he could muzzle his head under my hand.

It’s taking longer than I thought and that has all sorts of thoughts racing through my mind. Some of which are scary. It also draws me back to happier times when he and I tromped the October woods in search of bonasa umbellus and flights of timberdoodle.

Seamus has plenty of quirks and faults, but I can’t think of a single one right now. I only see a liver and white bundle of energy that ranges a little too far; takes too long to “kennel” when I’m ready to call it a day; and refuses to stay in the back of the Jeep when he’s wet and smells like rotting leaves. Right now I’d give a lot to have those things happen tomorrow.

I took him in at 8am and at 5:30 I talked to Doc Baker who decided to keep him over night. He said the operation went well and Seamus is up and getting around. He said he wants to make sure he doesn’t reopen the incision and he’s sure he’ll need pain medication to get through the night. He’ll come home the next day.

After the update I received a call from my friend Jim Purtell who knew Seamus was going in for surgery. The long and short of it is, he and his English Setter, Willow, came over and over a couple of toddies, we lamented how we couldn’t imagine going to the woods this October without them. Willow just sat, hanging out with two admirers.

Jim knew what I was feeling; he went through the same thing with Willow and will again.

What makes this especially hard is, not knowing if what you’re putting the dog through is the right thing to do. I mean, there is no communication other than the dog’s actions. If he whimpers he might be in pain or he might just want to go outside. Unless there is an obvious injury all you do is guess.

I think the best you can do for an animal is make sure you have a good veterinarian, one you trust and can talk to, really talk to. Half of what they do is calm the owners down and give them faith that they’re doing the right thing for their friend. I’m fortunate, Dr. Baker gives me that confidence…though I know he’s guessing too; but his is an educated guess.

Old timers, who were owned by bird dogs, will tell you that dogs are intuitive when it comes to knowing when someone is trying to help them …or do them harm, and they’re forgiving. I think they are right….I hope they’re right.

Fishing is going to have to wait a while; I’m going to be busy caring for a friend.